


Sense of Belonging

by Ferrero13



Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Snarky Alec, Tracking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6920215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferrero13/pseuds/Ferrero13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The things Alec and Magnus use to track each other never cease to amaze. (Although Izzy is constantly disappointed that it's never something scandalous like underwear.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bow and Quiver

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-Valentine in show-verse. Mostly because I like to take liberties with the future but it's set in stone in the books. Alec takes over as head of the New York Institute in this fic.

“Where’s Magnus?”

“Try his loft,” Alec says without looking up from his paperwork. Just because Magnus likes Alec a lot more than he likes Jace doesn’t mean that Alec is obligated to call on Magnus on his behalf every time—Jace is more than capable of grovelling for Magnus’ help if he really needs it. Alec won’t be complicit in overworking the Warlock, especially when Magnus has to suffer unwarranted insults just by being at the Institute. Alec is working on it, but even after Valentine, things are slow to change.

“He’s not with you?”

Alec arches an eyebrow, gestures at the barely furnished office around him with hardly enough corners to hide a fully grown man, and signs off another requisition form. “Evidently not.”

“Alec, Magnus is missing.”

 _Now_ Alec looks up. “What do you mean _missing_?”

“He was supposed to meet Izzy for some sparkly people gathering but he never turned up. We can’t find him anywhere, he’s not responding to fire messages, and he’s not picking up his calls.”

They’re out of his Spartan new office—he’d refused the more opulent one that previous heads preferred—and halfway to the weapons vault before Jace even finishes talking. Izzy runs to meet them, looking incredibly worried. “He wasn’t with you?” she asks.

“I love you two, but please stop stating the obvious. When was the last time you heard from him, Izzy?”

“About two hours ago. He texted me when he left his house. Alec, you know better than I do that he doesn’t live _two hours_ away.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Alec mumbles, and is summarily ignored by both Jace and Izzy.

“Did you accidentally wear anything of Magnus’ today? We could track him with that,” Jace suggests. He pulls out a rack of weapons and hands a Seraph blade to Izzy before grabbing one for himself.

Izzy laughs, short and forced, as she tucks the blade away. “Have you seen what he’s wearing? Magnus wouldn’t be caught dead in any of that.”

“I live here,” Alec says brusquely, plucking his bow and quiver from its shelf. He appreciates that Izzy’s trying to lighten the mood, he really does, but he finds it hard to be anything but anxious at the moment. “Unless he opened a portal into my room last night, I can’t _accidentally_ wear anything of his. Also, I think I’d notice if I’m wearing something bright pink. And so would the two of you.”

“Not if you’re wearing his underwear,” Izzy mutters.

Alec flushes. “What—I don’t…we aren’t—”

“Save your excuses. We need to get to Magnus’ loft unless he’s left something of his here,” Jace says.

“Way ahead of you,” Izzy says, already sashaying toward the entrance of the Institute. Jace jogs after her, giving his runes a once over to make sure he doesn’t have to redraw any of them.

“Actually,” Alec calls out after them somewhat hesitantly, “I may have something of Magnus’.”

Izzy stops, turns on her heels, and fixes Alec with a sly look that makes Alec want to curl into a ball and just die from sheer embarrassment at what it implies. “ _Are_ you wearing his underwear?”

“What? No!” He denies, cheeks turning pink again. He holds up his bow and quiver. “Jace?”

“Are we parabatai tracking with _your_ bow? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you and Magnus are two different people, right?”

Alec rolls his eyes, walking towards Izzy and Jace. “Yes, Jace, we’re two different people—what an astute observation. Come on, track now, talk later. If the remaining Circle members have got him, he’s not safe, High Warlock or not.”

Jace shrugs, holding out his hands. “All right. Let’s go get your man.”

“He’s not my—,” Alec splutters, but stops immediately when Jace clasps his hands around the bow, expression shifting into one of intense concentration.

Izzy looks on sceptically as Alec and Jace do that oddly intimate thing they do when parabatai tracking. Clary comes up to her on silent feet, Seraph blade sheathed and eyebrows raised, and asks, “Are they trying to track _Alec_? Because he’s right there.”

“No,” Izzy says, mildly amused and mostly confused. “Apparently Alec’s bow and quiver isn’t Alec’s anymore. Somehow, they’re now Magnus’. Go figure.”

“We’ve found him,” Alec says breathlessly, breaking away from Jace and into a loping run as he reshoulders his—now apparently Magnus’—bow and quiver.

“Hurry if you’re coming,” Jace tells Izzy and Clary. “I’m sure he’ll explain everything later.”

\---

“So…” Izzy says to Alec as he closes the door to the bedroom. “What was that about?” She gestures at his bow, which is now slung over his shoulder.

They’re standing around in the living room of Magnus’ loft, dirty and exhausted and doing their best not to smear grime everywhere while Alec tends to Magnus’ wounds and tucks him into bed. Izzy is tempted to try some of the very shimmery liquors in Magnus’ drinks cupboard but she knows better than to ingest something unknown from Magnus’ collection.

“They were his price for being your attorney,” Alec says.

Izzy blinks slowly. “You mean you gave up your bow and quiver…for me?”

Alec shuffles from foot to foot. “Well, yes. He asked. I agreed.”

“You didn’t think to say no?” Clary asks.

“I wasn’t in a position to do that,” Alec confesses, thinking of how he’d refused Magnus’ mortifying first offer. He tries not to think about how he wouldn’t do the same if Magnus asks again. “But I’d have given anything that's mine to give anyway; all things considered, it was a small price to pay.”

He suddenly finds himself moderately suffocated by Izzy’s arms and breathing in the sweat and dust crusting in her hair. Izzy huffs, small and shyly pleased, and says into his shirt, “If only what he asked for was your hand in marriage.” Then, without giving Alec time to choke on his tongue, she adds, “Thank you, big brother.”

Alec pats Izzy’s head awkwardly. “You’re welcome.”

“But why is your bow and quiver still with you?” Jace asks. “I mean, you _did_ pay him, right? We even used it to track him.”

“Yeah. He said that he wouldn’t know what to do with it, and told me to keep it.”

Izzy pulls back, holding Alec at arm’s length, and looks him straight in the eye, “You do realise that he basically defended me for free, right? And this is a man who demands exorbitant payment for things he can do blindfolded and sometimes steals two dollar snacks to save money. This one’s a keeper, Alec.”

Alec does choke on his tongue this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me that I've never seen Alec tell anybody the cost of hiring Magnus as Izzy's defence attorney.


	2. The Institute

“Please tell me Alexander is here,” Magnus says loudly as soon as he steps out of a portal and into the entryway of the Institute. He marches over quickly to the training area, where Izzy and Clary stop in the middle of sparring to give him their attention. A number of Shadowhunters pause in their work, eyes following Magnus and looking vaguely concerned. One or two passing Downworlders also stop mid-step.

Despite his worry, Magnus can’t help but be proud of how much the New York Institute has changed under Alec’s leadership. While it is far from the only one to have become more open since the whole fiasco with Valentine, it stands out as the most accepting by far. With an openly gay head whose relationship with a High Warlock is the worst kept secret since Clary tried to stop Stewart from finding out about the Shadow World, the Institute acts as a safe haven for those who, for various reasons, are not looked upon kindly where they came from. Three years is very little time in the grand scheme of things to effect so much change. Magnus spares a small smile for a Warlock whose demon mark has not been glamoured since she moved in four months ago.

“Alec? No. Why?” Clary asks, standing her staff upright and leaning into it slightly as she gasps for breath.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be meeting you for lunch? He stepped out about an hour ago,” Izzy adds.

“He was,” Magnus confirms. There’s an edge of hysteria in his voice, the kind of uncontrollably reed thin quality that people whose lives are falling apart around them but who are still trying to keep things together have. “He texted to tell me about a demon situation he came across on his way. You know how he’s early for everything, so being half an hour late is unusual even after factoring in being waylaid by demons. It doesn’t usually take him this long to finish them up. I considered that he might have stood me up but he hasn’t done that in three years five months and twelve days. Also, his calls aren’t going through. I think the demons might be stronger than expected, mostly because I’d rather not think about somebody being stupid enough to summon demons just to kidnap the head of the Institute. But—”

“Magnus, you’re rambling,” Clary says. “Alec’s been hunting demons for years. I’m sure he can handle himself.”

Magnus hisses under his breath, sharp and low, and Izzy is suddenly reminded of the fact that Magnus is older than she’ll ever be and capable of much more terrifying feats of magic than his sparkly red shirt and the way he looks at her brother like Alec is his own personal sky might suggest. “Not against a mob of demons, and not without his bow. He’s good, but he’s only one man.”

“So what you’re trying to say is that you need something to track him with,” Clary says.

“That would be a start,” Magnus says. He might have sounded grateful if he weren’t so worried. “I traced all possible routes on my way here but I couldn’t find him.”

Izzy props up her staff without a word, spinning on her considerable heels to head toward the living quarters. She gestures for Magnus to follow. “Come this way. His room is down this hall.”

“I know where his room is. But his bow—,” Magnus starts, torn between following Izzy and inching toward the weapons vault.

“Is yours now,” Clary finishes. She gives him an apologetic look. “Remember? For defending Izzy.”

Magnus sighs, then runs to keep up with Izzy. “Right. I knew I shouldn’t’ve done that.”

“Don’t be. We used it to find you last time,” Clary says.

“How could I. He hasn’t let me forget that. I can still see his smug smile. ‘Magnus remember the time you exhausted yourself saving a little werewolf child and was too stubborn to call me to get you home?’ and ‘Remember that you then got kidnapped with little effort by Circle members?’ and ‘Also don’t forget that you weren’t even conscious when we found you.’” Magnus smiles weakly. He flattens a hand against the wall of the Institute, running fingers across stained glass and wooden panels just to give himself something to do as they make their way through the building to Alec’s room.

Magnus tries not to linger on what might be happening to Alec now, but his brain isn’t cooperating with him. Instead, it insists on speculating about where Alec might be, what Alec might be doing, who—or _what—_ Alec might be with, and, suddenly, Izzy’s back disappears and is replaced by Alec shoving an elbow into a demon that shatters into a thousand sparking embers. In the spaces between a dozen demons circling Alec, he catches sight of a shop front, a muddy puddle, a street name.

He gasps.

“Turn back, Isabelle. Get your weapons,” Magnus says, voice now in that uncertain place between overwhelmingly relieved and overwhelmingly concerned.

“We’re not even there yet!” Izzy says, not stopping.

“I think I know where he is. He’s not seriously injured, but he could use some help.” The more he talks, the more Magnus slides away from relieved and concerned toward ruthless. The glamour he casts over his eyes out of habit flickers out.

Izzy stops, turns around, and power walks back to the training area with Magnus and Clary hot on her heels. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? So what is it? You’re clearly not wearing any of his shirts or his pants. Is it his underwear?”

Magnus laughs. “Isabelle, your brother can still barely look at me without blushing. What makes you think we’ve even gotten to first base?”

“She’s joking,” Clary assures him. “At least, I hope she is. Either way, I don’t want to know the answer to that question.” She pulls a face, then grabs a blade.

“You’ve been dating him for over three years. He also put his tongue down your throat when you crashed his wedding, and that was before your first date. I don’t know about you, but that seems to suggest that you’re already _way_ past first base,” Izzy says, whip uncoiling from around her wrist. “Let’s go.”

“Alexander is very shy,” Magnus comments blithely. His expression briefly softens as his fingers brush across Alec’s— _their_ —bow and quiver, softly and barely there like the kisses he presses to Alec’s forehead when Alec’s just drifted off to sleep after a long day, and takes them.

“Only around you,” Izzy mutters.

“How did you find him anyway?” Clary asks as Magnus begins to open a portal.

“Let’s just say that he’s done more for the people in this building than he gives himself credit for,” Magnus says, smiling, and gestures for Clary and Izzy to step through. The Warlock who sought sanctuary at the Institute four months ago catches his eye and mouths, ‘Good luck,’ as Magnus' magic flares to life in his hands and he walks through the portal. Just as the portal closes, her tail sweeps across the floor of the Institute.

Its scales make a slight scraping sound, and nobody gives it a second glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it says on the wiki that the Institute doesn’t belong to the people who run it but to the Council, but let’s just suspend our disbelief. I like the idea of the Institute becoming Alec's in all but name because he's cultivated such a sense of family, of acceptance and belonging, that nobody who's part of that family will ever say that the Institute is anybody's but Alec's.


	3. Ring

Jace is on patrol when he gets a text from Alec about demon activity even though Alec is supposed to be having dinner with Magnus right now. It doesn’t say much, just that Alec has been separated from Magnus, who tried to draw the demons to somewhere less populated. He calls Alec immediately.

“Okay, this is starting to get old,” Jace says when Alec answers his call.  “What is it now? For an Institute head and his four hundred-year-old Warlock boyfriend, you two get lost a lot.”

Alec snorts. “Three times in five years is not a lot. For a self-proclaimed ‘best Shadowhunter on this side of the galaxy’, you need more iratze runes than a five year old playing with fire. Where are you?”

Jace spots a street sign. “Five minutes away, if you’re at the Ethiopian place. Who am I kidding—there’s no ‘if’. We’ll be there in five. Less if we run. Izzy has a blade you can borrow.” Izzy cocks an eyebrow as if to say that Jace has no right to volunteer _her_ weapons, but she doesn’t complain as they set off for 44 th street at a brisk pace that almost passes for a run.

“Great. Thanks.” There is a pause in which Jace thinks Alec has hung up. “Do we really go to the Ethiopian restaurant that often?"

“I hate to break this to you, Alec, but for an Institute head and his four hundred-year-old Warlock boyfriend, you two also celebrate anniversaries in the most boring and predictable fashion. Namely, dinner at that restaurant followed by ‘drinks’ at Magnus’. It never changes.”

“We do usually just have _actual_ drinks, you know. And from what Clary tells me, you’re not much better yourself. It’s always the same museum with you.”

Jace splutters. “I bring her to different museums!”

“No he doesn’t,” Clary yells at the phone. Jace looks distinctly betrayed.

“Have you tried tracking him?” Izzy says, grabbing the phone from Jace. Jace snatches it back and sets it to speaker mode while glaring at Izzy.

“I did. The signal’s weak. That’s why I texted Jace.”

“Oh sure, because you can take on a horde of demons without anything to fight them with,” Jace says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t even try to argue with me. Magnus wouldn’t let you bring your weapons when you’re supposed to be busy making eyes at each other.”

“I didn’t say it was the only reason.”

“Are you wearing Magnus’—”

“Whatever no doubt scandalous thing you might be thinking, Izzy, the answer is no. I didn’t try to track him with a piece of clothing.”

Izzy huffs. “Well, throw me a bone here. Your boyfriend is practically sex on legs and you expect me to believe that you’ve been completely celibate? Not happening.”

“What does celibacy have to do with anything? And be careful you don’t let Simon hear you say that. It might bruise his already fragile ego.”

“Even if he’s not good at taking criticisms, at least he can take a compliment. Which is more than I can say for you, big brother. You’d think Magnus would’ve cured you of that by now.”

“As much as I’d love to continue listening to you disparage my character, I think I can see you now. I’m hanging up.” The line cuts. A figure waves at them from under a streetlamp.

“Okay, let’s have it,” Jace says, jogging up to Alec. He sticks out his hand. “If it’s not your bow and it’s not your clothes, what are we tracking with?”

Alec’s lips stretch into a grimace. “This isn’t how I’d like to tell you, but I guess it’s as good a time as any.” He twists something off his finger and lays it on an open palm.

Nobody moves for a long moment.

Then Jace chuckles and says, “Congrats. It’s about time.”

“Yeah,” Alec breathes, cheeks flushing patchily the way they do when he’s pleased and embarrassed in equal measure. “Thanks.”

It isn’t until afterwards when they’ve found Magnus—who, despite Alec’s panic, had the situation under so much control that he was cuddling a stray cat when they arrived on scene—that Izzy finally gets a word in.

“Why do you have one of Magnus’ rings?” Izzy asks, picking up Alec’s hand to inspect the ring. “Where did you even find it? It’s so plain I barely believe it’s Magnus’, except we used it to track him.”

Clary gives Izzy a bewildered look. “I know you guys rarely get pop culture references, but this really takes the cake. Haven’t you been watching films with Simon?”

“Of course! He’s been educating me on the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars. It’s all very fascinating even though everybody dresses like a cliché. But how is this at all relevant?”

“In many Mundane cultures,” Clary says slowly, enunciating every word as if she’s talking to a five-year-old, “couples exchange rings when they want to make their relationship permanent.”

Izzy’s eyes trace a very wide arc very slowly until they meet Alec’s fidgety ones, then slide past to level an unnervingly even gaze at Magnus. “You married my brother without letting us know,” she says, voice flat but somehow also accusing.

Magnus purses his lips and widens his eyes in a way that fails tragically at conveying anything but badly masked self-satisfaction. “ _Technically_ I proposed to him. We’re engaged. I wouldn’t survive a Shadowhunter ceremony even if we could find somebody willing to officiate a wedding where one half of the happy couple is probably going to die at the most important moment. We have some kinks to work out before anybody gets married.”

“You could do a different sort of ceremony. I heard that church weddings are quite popular,” Clary suggests. “Maybe incorporate some Downworlder traditions since, you know.” Clary gestures at Magnus.

“Alexander deserves to marry in gold,” Magnus says, and plucks Alec’s hand from Izzy’s to thread their fingers together. Izzy continues to stare at him almost catatonically.

“Alexander is right here, and he’d actually prefer to be able to get married at all,” Alec says, amused, the blotchy blush returning. “But thanks for assuming.”

Magnus grins. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

“You got _nearly married_ and didn’t tell us?” Izzy says.

“Hey, I just got engaged today,” Alec protests as his cheeks discover a new shade of very violent red. “In my defence, even I didn’t know I was getting ‘nearly married’ until half an hour ago.”

“Well, I’m glad one of you finally decided to make things official.” Clary smiles, but it looks suspiciously like a smirk. “It’s not like you haven’t been portalling over from Magnus’ literally every morning for the past year.”

“How did you—”

Jace wraps his arm around Clary’s shoulder and grins at her, then at Alec. “I know you’ve always been the one with just enough clothes to get by, but you have to admit that two shirts, one pants, and no underwear is way too austere even for you.”

Alec splutters, expression halfway between outrage and mortification. “Why were you even digging through my closet?”

“Does it matter? You’re not even hiding in it anymore,” Izzy says, finally breaking out of her daze. “The point is that you already act like you’re married. And now that you’ve finally decided that you want legal recognition for what’s already there…we’re just happy for you. You deserve to be happy, big brother.”

Alec smiles at Izzy and Jace, at Clary and Magnus, at the family he’s been given and the family he’s built for himself. “I already am.”

\---

On their way back to Magnus’—Izzy and Jace told them not to bother pretending that Alec still sleeps at the Institute—Alec walks so close to Magnus that they keep stepping on each other’s toes. They're almost there when Alec twists the ring on his finger and says, “I’m irrationally glad that you didn’t actually give this to me.”

Magnus wraps an arm around Alec’s waist and steps in front of Alec so that they stop right at his doorstep. He looks up at Alec, who just stares back with raised eyebrows. “It’s not irrational if you have a reason for it. I mean, I wasn’t in any trouble at all, but I’m sure you liked being able to find me whenever and wherever. Maybe I’ll lend it to you forever.”

A corner of Alec’s mouth quirks upward. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m also irrationally glad for the terrible reason you had for not giving it to me.”

“Is it terrible for me to want you to keep coming back? Libraries don’t have a monopoly on lending things to get people to return, you know.”

“I’d come back to you even without a promise.” Alec traces his thumb across Magnus’ cheekbones. “The destination is more than enough incentive,” he says, and feels skin pull under his fingertip as Magnus' lips stretch into a smile.

“Well, then,” Magnus says as he unlocks the door behind him. “Welcome home.”


	4. Magnus

The point is not that the head of the New York Institute is missing. The point isn’t even that there are demons everywhere and Alec could be dead at the moment. The point is that there is a very worried, very anxious, and very _powerful_ Warlock willing to destroy anything in his path to get to him, and they’re right in the heart of a residential area.

As somebody whose weapon of choice is useless at best in close combat and who is more concerned with leaving no man behind than actually fighting demons, Alec was supposed to be bringing up rear the way he always does when he’s not on a solo mission. Jace and Clary are at the head of their group with Magnus and Izzy less than ten paces behind them finishing off the demons that managed to get past two Seraph blades and a volley of arrows.

It’s when a new wave of demons descend on them that anybody—namely Magnus—realises that the proportion of demons felled by arrows has shrunk from one fifth to none at all. He’d feel pretty bad about it if he didn’t know that Alec would rather have him focus on the task at hand than keep an eye on somebody who normally didn’t need (and wouldn’t appreciate unsolicited) help.

“Has anybody noticed that our favourite archer isn’t shooting his arrows anymore?” Magnus yells between one shattering demon and the next.

“Oh my god, Magnus, this is not the time! And I do _not_ need to know anything about my brother not getting off!” Jake shouts back.

“Okay, first of all, I get your brother off just fine—”

“Too much information!” Jake interrupts, just as Izzy says, “Tell me more, but later when I’m not covered in ichor.”

Magnus rolls his eyes and banishes another demon. “Second of all, if you’re not too busy admiring your doubtlessly hideous reflection in your glowing blade, you should know that Alexander is literally not here and literally not firing any arrows.”

“Does this mean we have to track him again?” Clary asks without taking her eyes off the swarm coming at her.

“You’re such a wonderful, kind, and practical person, biscuit. What made you choose your human disaster of a boyfriend?”

“I’ll have you know that my hair is perfect even if the rest of my life isn’t,” Jace says.

“Case in point,” Magnus says, then spears through two demons with his magic.

“We are _not_ arguing about Jace’s very subjective beauty right now,” Izzy says, and Jace makes a very loud sound of protest. “Let’s just focus on getting rid of these ugly suckers so I can go back to painting my nails and Magnus can use his underwear to track Alec.”

Magnus sighs. “I have terrible news for you, Isabelle. I, unfortunately, did not have the foresight to bring anything of Alexander’s with me, much less swap underwears.”

“You’d think you’d have learnt to do that by now,” Jace says.

“This implies that Alexander needs to be tracked down very frequently, which is not the case at all. Unless you can’t count, once in his entire lifetime is less frequent than five times in as many months, Mr. Can’t-Find-His-Way-Out-Of-A-Paper-Bag.”

“In his defence,” Clary says, “he wasn’t actually lost. He was just in one of those moods where he wanders off without telling anyone.”

“That’s even worse. He should know better than to do that, being a Big Bad Shadowhunter and all.”

“He has a point,” Izzy says, grunting as she stabs a demon to quash the urge to smirk.

“You’re my sister; you’re supposed to be on _my_ side.”

“I’m on the winning side, whichever that is.”

“And this is why you’re the ambassador to the Seelie’s, Isabelle, not Jace. You know exactly how they think. I’m glad Alexander has you. I’m less glad that he has Jace for a brother. He and Clary can both do so much better.”

“I’m not even going to bother defending myself against you anymore,” Jace grouses.

“Smart boy,” Magnus says. “Right, desperate times, desperate measures. Come here, Golden Boy.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m _busy_ ,” Jace says, stabbing a demon.

Magnus rolls his eyes. “Forget it. Stay where you are. I’m coming to you. Isabelle, come here too.”

“What are you doing?” Izzy asks, but goes to him anyway.

“I appreciate your faith in my ability to singlehandedly slay a dozen demons, Magnus, but I’d really like to be more assured of surviving this massacre,” Clary says. “You can’t monopolise Izzy and Jace’s attention. I need them here. In fact, I need you fighting as well.”

“Just a second, biscuit.” Magnus grabs both Izzy and Jace’s arms, one in each hand. “I’m trying to do important magic. Isabelle, Jace, cover me.”

Izzy shatters a demon to her right. “What else do you think I'm doing?”

Magnus favours her with a tight smile. “Sorry for doubting you.”

“What _are_ you doing? ‘Important magic’ isn’t good enough an answer,” Jace says, looking rather irritated to have one limb effectively immobilised in Magnus’ iron grip.

“You’re Alec’s Parabatai, Isabelle’s his sister. Figure it out.” Magnus shuts his eyes and focuses on Alec.

“I don’t think it works that way,” Jace bites back as he slashes another demon.

“Well I don’t see _you_ trying!” Magnus grinds out between gritted teeth. His fingers tighten around Jace and Izzy’s arms momentarily, before letting go altogether. “Never mind. It was a long shot anyway.”

Izzy and Jace retreat back into formation as Magnus hurls a frustrated burst of magic at the closest demon, which explodes in a magnificent display of orange shards. Jace inches a bit further away from Magnus than strictly necessary when the heat of Magnus’ magic passes by a little too closely to his face.

In the lull between one wave of demons and the next, Magnus runs a hand through his hair and heaves a heavy sigh.

“You can portal over to your place. We can handle things here,” Clary offers.

“We’re practically invincible,” Izzy adds with a sharp crack of her whip, ichor coming off it in a brilliant dark spray.

Magnus works up a smile for them. Clary is panting and gasping, and blood cakes the ripped edges of her jacket. But even through gritted teeth as Izzy reinforces an iratze rune on Clary’s arm, Clary finds strength to assure him and willingness to take over his responsibility, and Magnus knows that Alec would have his head if he left them here to look for him. Magnus wouldn’t forgive himself either.

Eventually, Magnus say, “You know Alexander wouldn’t like that.”

“He may be my big brother, but somebody needs to look out for him sometimes.”

Magnus chortles. “He wouldn’t like that either.” Shaking his head, he rubs his hands together. “You lot are all just like him, never putting yourselves first. It’s a good thing I’m more than capable of watching over all you ridiculous Lightwoods.”

“You’re one of us too, you know,” Izzy says, lips tipped just the slightest bit up. “You never put yourself first either. It’s always ‘Alexander this’ and ‘Clary that’ and ‘Isabelle let me fix your makeup’ but you never ask anything of us.”

Magnus places a hand on his cheek in mock embarrassment. “Oh, hush, Isabelle, you’re making me blush, and that’s supposed to be Alexander’s job.”

Izzy opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. Then, in a quiet whisper, she says, “I’m sorry you couldn’t use us to find him. You probably know better than anyone else that what you’re tracking with can’t be something Alec owns conditionally. It’s got to be something he can say: ‘it’s mine’ without having to qualify how it’s his. I’m sorry, Magnus.”

“I know. I was desperate. This mission was never meant for one Shadowhunter, much less one who’s separated from his team.” Magnus puts his face in his hands. “I shouldn’t be whining to you. You’re his sister—you’ve known him longer than I have. But I just don’t want to go back to how it was before I met him.”

“Let’s not go there yet. We don’t know—”

“I know where he is,” Magnus suddenly says with a sigh of relief. “He’s safe, just a little bit lost. He’ll be back here soon.”

“That’s great news,” Clary says, smiling.

“Yeah.”

“What did you use?” Izzy asks.

Magnus hesitates. He's lived long enough to know that this isn't trivial, that this could be his ruin. What he says can be used against him in so many ways, especially where magic is concerned. It's dangerous. But the faces smiling at him are familiar and trustworthy and he knows that none of them would ever sell him out, not even Jace.

So he tells them.

“Myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went there. I used Magnus. I hope it's not too much of a stretch.


	5. Alec

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've drifted away from this fandom for so long but I told myself to finish this before season 2 comes out so I've finally done it. This fic is officially completed in time for season 2. I'm still undecided on an epilogue, though.

The next time Magnus goes missing—Jace is keeping score and it seems like Magnus and Alec are never more than one tally mark away from each other—they don’t even bother asking Alec if he has anything that belongs to Magnus.

Jace stalks right up to his Parabatai, grabs one hand in each of his, then presses Alec’s face between both of them. “Right, think about Magnus, and then we can be off,” he tells him.

Alec looks utterly bewildered. “What?”

“We’re Parabatai-tracking using you,” Jace says.

“Can you even do that?” Alec asks.

“Magnus used himself to track you,” Jace says as if it explains everything. Izzy, who is currently fixing Clary’s hair, rather thinks that it does.

Alec’s face goes a brilliant shade of red because, clearly, he inherited all the modesty and left Izzy with all the confidence. “Yeah but Magnus is a Warlock—”

“Just shut up and concentrate.”

In less than half a minute, they’re setting off in Magnus’ direction and Izzy is shooting Alec very smug smirks and Alec is trying his very best to pull his hair over his face to avoid looking at Izzy and Clary just laughs loudly and brightly.

“So you’re all his, huh?” Jace says over Clary’s laughter.

Alec actually notches his bow and aims it at Jace before huffing and deciding that Jace’s death is not worth having to stop to retrieve his arrow.

Jace grins and decides that they’ve worked out a very efficient system.

\---

Magnus is around for regular ward maintenance—and, Izzy suspects, possibly a tryst with the head of the Institute once that’s over—when Robert asks him for a favour. It’s not much, just a request to cast a protection charm on a piece of jewellery for Maryse’s birthday, but he does offer payment and Magnus isn’t going to turn that down.

“There’s not much that you have that I want,” Magnus says. “However, there is something in this building that I’m particularly keen on keeping for myself.”

Robert eyes Magnus warily. “Should I regret letting you choose your fee?”

“Maybe.” Magnus smirks. “Ah, there my payment comes.”

Turning around, Robert sees his children—all three of the ones old enough to be sent out on missions only to track ichor across the floors when they get back like children who had rolled around in mud—and Clarissa Fairchild tossing witty retorts back and forth in some sort of grown-up version of roughhousing.

“No,” Robert says quickly. He doesn’t know what Magnus wants, but he already knows that he wouldn’t like it one bit if it has anything to do with any of his children.

“No?” Magnus asks, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Then maybe you should have made your offer before I took the job so I could have decided whether I wanted to make this exchange. My magic for something of yours, isn’t that the deal?”

“I’ll offer you something else of equal value.”

“But you see, there’s nothing that even approaches the value of what I want. All the gold in your vaults cannot compare. Oh, hello, Alexander.”

Alec comes to stand next to Magnus. Izzy, and Jace greet him enthusiastically and reluctantly respectively, and Clary waves at him with a bright smile.

“What did you ask him to do this time?” Alec asks Robert, eyebrows raised. “What’s so different that you can’t just pay him normally?”

“It’s nothing that you need to worry about, Alexander.” Magnus slips his hand into Alec’s and marvels at how Alec is no longer flustered by anything he does anymore. Surreptitiously, he warms Alec’s ring with a bit of magic and smiles when Alec stares at their joint hands like a demon had just sprouted from them. “I just thought it was time to finally get your parents’ blessings.”

“What?”

“You know, so you can have your whole family there when I finally get round to marrying you.”

Alec stares at Magnus like a demon had just sprouted from his face instead.

“So what do you say, Robert? Will you give me your son?”

Before Robert can even open his mouth to gape at Magnus’s audacity, Jace bursts out laughing in a way that Magnus has never seen before. He is doubled over, hand slapping his thigh as he clutches his stomach, and his face actually starts to turn a somewhat alarming shade of red that’s rare even for Alec.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Magnus,” Jace manages to say between loud, wheezing laughter.

Magnus looks at him, unimpressed. “As somebody who _has_ given us your blessings, you have no right to say that.”

“That’s not what he means,” Izzy says, giggling. “Alec is no one but Alec’s to give.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Magnus says, mostly to Robert.

“No, you don’t get it. The thing is, normally Alec giving himself to you wouldn’t be a problem because let’s face it he would if you asked. Except, Alec already belongs to you.”

Magnus frowns. “Sure, that’s my ring on his finger after all. I’d be very upset if that doesn’t mean that he’s chosen to be mine.”

“That’s not it either,” Clary adds, laughing a bit too. “See, about a week ago we needed to find you, so we did some impromptu tracking. Guess what we used.”

Magnus narrows his eyes at Clary, then looks to Izzy and Jace for answers when Clary doesn’t appear to be very forthcoming. They too are pretty much useless since they’re still trying to unsuccessfully stifle their laughter. Finally, he looks at Alec, who has turned a shade of red even deeper than Jace.

“I don’t—”

“ _Think_ , what did _you_ use to track Alec the last time?” Izzy says.

Magnus whips his head around to stare, wide-eyed, at Alec, who looks about ready to fling himself into the sun. “No…”

Jace grins at him. “ _Yes_.”

There aren’t many things in the world that Magnus wants. He is old enough to have already satisfied most of his desires. What he does want, however, tend to be rare, expensive, impossible without defying the laws of physics, or all of the above. In that moment, he feels like none of them matter anymore.

Without taking his eyes of Alec, Magnus says, “In that case, Robert, let me rephrase. Will you and Maryse make Alec the happiest man alive by attending the wedding that I will be organising as soon as I leave this thrice-damned building? There’s no sense in waiting to officialise the fact that even magic recognises that we fully belong to each other, after all.”


End file.
